


Meanwhile, At McKinley

by Owl_Be_Writing



Series: If Elliott Had Been There- A Season Six Rewrite [2]
Category: Glee
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-12-27
Updated: 2017-03-07
Packaged: 2018-09-12 12:43:52
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 8,258
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9072226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Owl_Be_Writing/pseuds/Owl_Be_Writing
Summary: A fan of ‘Leaving The Liars In Lima’ wanted to know more about Kahula, so I ended up writing this. Some peeks into what is going on in McKinley during the main story, how Kahula's presence alters what happens there oh-so-slightly.





	1. On August 21, 1959, Hawaii Was Stolen-Um--'Received Statehood'

 

Kahula leaned heavily upon a tree in the front of the school, and sighed. The first week of school as a Junior at McKinley had been much more terrible than he had expected it to be.

And he had already expected it to be terrible.

When you move from the beautiful island you had proudly called your home for sixteen years to _Ohio_ , your expectations are already starting pretty low.

And McKinley had taken one look at Kahula’s expectations, that were already lain prone on the ground, and promptly dug a hole to crawl underneath them.

He had literally _just_ avoided being bitten by a _literal_ doberman pinscher, today.

He looked to where his new Ohio residence sat, across the street from the school. As nice as it was to have such a short trip to school everyday, a long commute would have probably been nicer.

He wanted to tell his parents about how _awful_ this school was, but his father already felt horribly guilty that he had had to move them to Ohio to begin with. So he said nothing. He couldn’t do that to him.

He wasn’t ready to go home, just yet, for that reason. If he went home right now, the emotion about this hellhole so fresh, he’d definitely just say...everything. He needed to settle down for a little while, first.

He bent over to access his large backpack at his feet. He unzipped it, reached in, and pulled out the ukulele he had secreted away. He took it out of its case, resumed his lean on the tree, and began to play, as he thought of his _real_ home, Hawaii.

 

 _~He hoʻoheno kē ʻike aku_ __  
_Ke kai moana nui lā_ __  
_Nui ke aloha e hiʻipoi nei_  
_Me ke ʻala o ka līpoa_ ~

 

He lost himself in the song, zero care as to whether anyone heard.

 

 _~ He līpoa i pae i ke one_  
_Ke one hinuhinu lā_  
_Wela i ka lā kē hehi aʻe_  
_Mai manaʻo he pono kēia~_

 

And it turned he should have used some care.

Principal Sue Sylvester suddenly appeared, and ripped his ukulele away from him. A tree behind him, Principal Sylvester in front, Kahula was trapped. Terrified.

“I don’t want to be hearing _any_ music on the grounds of McKinley in the first place,” she nearly howled, “but, if I do, it had better be _American_ music!”

Kahula was sure she would have smashed it to pieces on the tree right then, if his father had not appeared as suddenly as she had earlier.

His father was a huge man, broad shouldered, big bellied, and strong. Being in a suit did not seem to render him any less imposing.

“Is there some problem, Principal Sylvester?” Ikaika Palakiko asked, quietly.

Kahula saw her go rather still, her eyes wide. She slowly turned to face Mr. Palakiko. She just shoved the ukulele into his hand, mumbled, “Music is forbidden on school grounds,” and, while you couldn’t say that she _ran_ , exactly, she did walk away, back into the building, very quickly.

“‘Music is forbidden’?” Ikaika repeated, his gaze on the door she had escaped behind. He looked at his son, smiled, and joked, “Where’s Kevin Bacon when you need him, huh?” After they shared a brief laugh, he asked, “She _is_ aware that Hawaii is part of America, right?”

Some of the smile Kahula had gained from his father’s presence faded. “She’s one of those ‘real America’ type of people, dad.”

Ikaika frowned. “That’s not good to hear... I’m sorry my company made me transfer here, Kahula,” he apologized, as he shook his head.  He then looked at Kahula and said, very seriously, “I want you to never lose touch with your heritage. Don’t let anyone take it away from you.”

As Kahula accepted his ukulele back from his father, he promised, “I won’t, dad.”

Ikaika raised an eyebrow and asked, with a smile, “What did you call me?”

Kahula grinned. “Makua kane.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in this chapter-
> 
> [Ka Uluwehi O Ke Kai](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AZ_MN7a51DY) by Edith Kanakaole originally, this version with an additional final verse by Hapa. (A lyric video that includes translation.)


	2. Catty

 

Kahula grabbed the wheel, and spun it.

_Tiktaktiktaktiktaktiktak-tik-tak-tik-tak-tik_

**_KITTY_ **

Oh, no.

“Can Island Boy spin again?”

Kahula glared at Kitty. Now he _wanted_ to duet with this girl for whom insulting people was a hobby, out of spite.

“No, Kitty,” said Artie, “the wheel is god, and shall not be questioned.”

“Besides,” chimed in Santana, “I doubt you consider him to be the _worst_ option.”

Kitty nodded. “True,” she acquiesced.

“What’s that supposed to mean?” protested Madison.

“Madison!” Artie cried, “I believe it’s your turn, get up here!”

 -----

“Your mom is freakishly friendly,” drawled Kitty, as she took a seat in the armchair in his room that faced his bed, where he sat, ukulele held in his lap. “Not what I expected.”

Kahula squinted at her. “What do you mean?”

“I mean,” she elaborated, “I expected some kind of cold, stern house that was not a home, with a kind of creepy Stepford wife, unsuccessfully hiding a culture of abuse and neglect.”

Kahula did a double take. “Why on Earth would you think that?”

She raised an eyebrow, and said, “Because you always look shocked when anyone praises you, or you hear applause. I just assumed you never got it at home.”

He frowned. He didn’t want to let this girl into his private life, but he could not allow her to maintain such a crooked idea of his family.

“That’s because,” he explained, “in my large family, we are all extremely talented. I have good grades, but Akamai, my eldest brother, graduated valedictorian. I’m a good surfer, but Kaimana, my eldest sister, is much better than me, and has won the most awards of all of us. I’m a good singer, but Kaleo, he’s two years older than me, has a better vocal range. I _was_ the best dancer in the family, but then Ailani, my little sister, has already won more contests than me, even though I’m three years older than her. That’s not the whole list. In everything, I’m never more than second best. And I’m not even second best, in some things.”

“Unfortunately for me,” Kitty said, “one of those is singing, isn’t it?”

Kahula glared at her. “Har, har.”

“I notice you’re not correcting me,” she pointed out.

He huffed. “Could we please get to what you’re here for?”

Kitty smirked. “Sure.”

For a moment, there was silence, while they thought about what song they should do for their duet at the party to help Rachel get over losing her childhood home.

“Is there any way I could talk you into doing a Marilyn Manson song?” is how Kitty chose to break the silence.

Kahula stared at her. “Depends,” he deadpanned, “could any of them be played on this?” He lifted his ukulele.

She cocked an eyebrow, again. “No.”

“Then I vote ‘nay’,” he stated.

She stared at the instrument. “So you’re dead set on playing that for our number, huh?” She smiled and shook her head. “The boy from Hawaii literally plays the ukulele. Guess you love confirming stereotypes. Tell me,” she leaned forward, hands clasped, “do you love spam, too?”

He wore a glare as he replied, “No, I hate it. And it’s pronounced ‘ookoolehleh’.”

Kitty rolled her eyes. “That sounds fake, but okay.”

Oh, _hell_ no. “Sure, Catty.”

She blinked. “It’s ‘Kitty’,” she corrected.

“‘That sounds fake, but okay’,” he retorted, as he pretended to tune his instrument. Then he looked at her again. “That’s not even the right way to use that expression, you know.”

Kitty’s eyebrows shot up. “Wow,” she said, “shy boy suddenly got an attitude.”

Kahula shrugged, and said, “I grew up on a volcanic island. I can deal with lava.”

Kitty smiled. “Right.” She rested her chin on her hand, elbow on the armrest. “Can you play ‘Wonderwall’ on that thing?” she asked, with obvious sarcasm.

He said nothing, and, instead, immediately began to play.

 

_~Today_

_Is gonna be the day_

_That they’re gonna throw it back to you_

_By now_

_You should’ve somehow_

_Realized what you gotta do_

_I don’t believe that anybody_

_Feels the way I do_

_About you now~_

 

As he sang, Kitty’s smirk dropped. She sat up, with clear interest.

 

_~There are many things that I_

_Would like to say to you_

_But I don’t know how~_

 

The scene now changes. It is now in Rachel’s basement, Kitty and Kahula sat on stools on the stage, as Kitty sang-

 

_~Because maybe_

_You’re gonna be the one that saves me_

_And after all_

_You’re my wonderwall~_

 

She sang the reprise of the first verse, and then, together, they sang the bridge-

 

_~And all the roads that lead you there_

_Were winding_

_And all the lights that light the way_

_Are blinding~_

 

Kitty then sang the first repeat of the refrain, Kahula the second, and then the ending lines, together.

When they had finished the song, and accepted the applause, they sat on their stools.

Neither quite sure how they felt about it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song in this chapter-
> 
> [Wonderwall](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Y7I1nCcwJP0) by Oasis


	3. "Hey, Ailani. Remember Saying That You Wanted A New Hobby?"

 

“Out of the way, I need to do something that’s very important; whatever it is you old ladies want to tell the club can wait,” declared Myron as he marched into the room, last one to arrive as usual (“I’m never late, you’re all just early.”), and went to the center of the performance area in the choir room and shoved and shooed Rachel and Santana out of the way.

Santana began to hiss, “You little-” but cut herself off when she saw Rachel desperately shake her head and make the ‘nix nix’ gesture across her throat.

He is the nephew of the superintendent, and they thereby hold no power over him.

Kahula _may_ have overheard Santana try to convince Rachel that it was in their best interest to poison Myron, just before glee club.

(“ _What?_ Santana, I did not just hear you say that you want to murder a child!”

“You didn’t; I only want to poison him enough that he’s weak and manageable so that I _don’t_ eventually snap and actually murder him.”

“You are insane.”

“...you’re right, he’s too small. Far too easy to get the dosage wrong and... _heeey, Kahula!_ How long have you been standing there, huh?”

“...I just got here.”

“Excellent! Please take a seat. Um, Santana and I are very excited about today’s lesson plan, but she’s worried I’m _too_ excited and ought to tone it down a bit, right, Santana?”

“Uh, right. Enthusiasm is good, but it’s _far too easy to get the dosage wrong,_ that’s what I said.”

“...sure.”)

“I have a song to sing! A song I dedicate to,” he paused dramatically before he pointed to the blonde cheerleader, “Kitty! Ancient Egypt had a cat goddess, and you are the Bastet of Ohio, my sweet. And your body...is a wonderland.”

With that bizarre introduction, he began to sing, of course, ‘Your Body Is A Wonderland’. To the discomfort of all in the room.

“He’s a little monster none of us can touch. It’s already not worth the money, putting up with him,” whispered Kitty to Kahula, who sat next to her, while Myron’s eyes were closed. (They weren’t friends, god no, but...they weren’t _not_ friends.)

Kahula whispered back, “I have an idea.”

Unfortunately, Myron’s eyes opened before Kahula sat back up. He no longer sang, and instead pointed to Kahula, and shouted, “Stay away from my woman, hula hoop!”

“Women aren’t property, twerp,” Santana said with crossed arms, “now, take a seat so we can, you know, start the lesson plan.”

Myron’s eyes glowed with rage, but he took his seat. Thankfully, the only available chair was the one farthest away from Kitty and Kahula’s seats in the front, furthest to the left.

When the glee club session had concluded, Myron immediately charged over to Kahula, who was still seated, which meant that Myron was able to loom over him as he wagged his finger in Kahula’s face. Well, not really; ‘looming’ wasn’t exactly an ability someone like Myron could have.

“I have something to tell you, grass skirt, and you had better listen-”

“-I have something to tell you, too, actually,” said Kahula, tone polite, even though he had interrupted, “I have a sister your age, and she really likes boys that can sing and dance. Her name is Ailani.”

Myron’s brain visibly tripped on a rug and stumbled for a few steps before it righted itself. Metaphorically. He shook his head and accused, “I know what you’re doing! You’re trying to distract me so that you can have my woman to yourself, by foisting me onto your very likely _ugly_ sister!”

Kahula did not react to Myron’s words, but held up his phone to show the picture of his sister he had pulled up already in preparation for this. “This is Ailani.”

Myron’s brain promptly crashed face first into the carpet. Figuratively. After several long seconds, during which he took the phone to stare at the image on it, he mumbled, “...there’s no way that she’s thirteen.”

Kahula smiled internally, but his outward expression remained innocent and neutral. “She is,” he assured, “puberty hit her pretty early. I wouldn’t mention it, she’s a bit embarrassed about it.”

“She should not be,” Myron murmured, still transfixed by the picture in his hands.

“...aaand I’ll be having my phone back,” said Kahula as plucked his phone from Myron’s lax fingers. As he shut the phone off and put it back into his backpack, he invited, “You can come over for dinner tonight, if you like.”

“I’ll be there,” said Myron, with no hesitation. But he then paused, made a face, and asked, “Wait a minute; are you going to be eating weird Hawaiian food?”

Kahula somehow managed to keep his irritation hidden. “Most likely,” he replied, “my family is very proud of our heritage.” With some significance, he added, “For your sake, I won’t mention you saying that to her.”

“Good,” said Myron, in a careless tone. And, without a goodbye, he turned and left the room, and didn’t even acknowledge Kitty as he passed her where she had stood and watched their interaction from the doorway.

Kahula got up, slung his backpack over his shoulder, and walked over to Kitty. They had the same class next, so it made sense to walk to class together.

“So,” Kitty drawled, “I take it that you really hate your little sister?”

Kahula let out a small laugh. “No,” he denied, “I _trust_ her.” He turned his head slightly to better look at Kitty, and explained, “I come from a family full of strong-minded women that know how to handle arrogant and obnoxious males. Ailani is no different.” He looked forward again, and smirked. “And she’s bored.”

A wicked little smile formed on Kitty’s face. “I almost feel sorry for him,” she mused, “there’s _very little_ chance of her falling for him, is there?”

Kahula grinned suddenly, to Kitty’s surprise. “It’s a lot less than ‘very little’,” he replied.

Kitty raised an eyebrow. “She’s a lesbian?”

He frowned slightly at that question, and answered, “Well...I did ask her once, a few months ago, whether she liked boys or girls.”

Kitty leaned towards him. “And?”

Kahula thought back to that conversation-

(He and Ailani walked side by side down the hallway of a large mall. To Kahula’s right, they passed a group of tween girls arguing and crying over something to do with One Direction.

Kahula didn’t know why he had never thought about it before, but he had yet to see his sister ever get silly like that over any boy. Or any girl. Huh.

Kahula wasn’t given to asking personal questions, and he still couldn’t tell you why he even asked, but, he did.

“Ailani,” he asked, “do you like boys or girls?”

His sister whipped her head towards him, and stared. “No,” she answered.)

Kitty blinked. “‘No’? What do you mean, she said no?”

“That’s what I said-”

(“What do you mean, ‘no’?” asked Kahula, confused.

Ailani returned her gaze forward and replied, “I mean no.” She stopped walking. They were at their intended destination, _Strum_. “Now, are you here to help me buy a guitar, or to ask me stupid questions? Come on,” she commanded, and strode into the store.

Kahula quietly followed.)

“So she hasn’t figured it out yet,” Kitty stated as she walked through the classroom door Kahula held open for her.

“I think she has figured it out,” Kahula disagreed while he stepped into the room. “The answer is ‘no’.”

He closed the door.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songs in this chapter-
> 
> [Your Body Is A Wonderland](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=N5EnGwXV_Pg) by John Mayer
> 
>  
> 
> Kahula may have tried to lead Myron on, but Ailani doesn’t play games with people, and she attempts to [make her stance clear](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10651107) to Myron not long after she and Myron meet. But, if you remember Myron at all, you can probably guess how successful she was in squashing his dreams.


	4. I Wasn't Looking For Nobody When You Looked My Way

 

Everytime he heard Skylar speak, Kahula liked him even less. He was an arrogant White Boy ™ that clearly thought he was ‘too good’ for public school and better than everyone who attended McKinley.

In his latest self important rant, which took place during the glee club’s dance rehearsal, he disrespected everyone in the room that wasn’t a Warbler, including their _teachers_ , saying that not only did their dancing suck, the choreography itself was terrible.

Kahula _had_ been privately thinking that the choreography lacked some spirit and was a bit ‘paint-by-numbers’, but he certainly wouldn’t voice that opinion out loud _now._ The thought of publicly agreeing with this Trust Fund Baby made him feel sick. (Despite the fact that Kahula largely blamed the movement restricting blazers that they all wore to appease the Warblers. He felt that that was some real colonialist level bullshit.)

Myron may be a brat, but he was thirteen. Skylar was at least seventeen.

Kahula was more than a little disappointed with Kitty when she agreed with this jerk’s declaration that Roderick and Spencer were so awful that they ought to be hidden in the back, but at least she sounded sorry about it.

“As much as I hate to admit it, he’s right. I love you guys,” she said to Spencer and Roderick, “but we just can’t afford to lose. So, unless you like, magically get better this second, then I think maybe you should take one for the team and just stay hidden in the back row.”

Now Kahula felt that he _had_ to speak up. “It’s the fourteenth,” he argued, “we have two weeks until we compete at Sectionals on the twenty-ninth. A lot can be accomplished in two weeks. I could tutor you two.”

Roderick and Spencer smiled, and Kitty looked receptive to this suggestion.

But Skylar opened his big mouth again.

“Oh, look,” he said, snidely, “it speaks! I had begun to think that Kabbalah from Honolulu didn’t know how to talk.” The McKinley people in the room, and a few of the Warblers, looked at him in shock. The rest of the Warblers smirked in clear amusement.

There was no doubt about it, now: Kahula hated this boy.

Before he got the chance to retort, Kitty spoke, with an anger that startled him. “His name is Kahula.”

Myron also joined in for Kahula’s defence as he stated, “And he’s from Hale’iwa, O’ahu,” with perfect pronunciation and inflection.

A ghost of a smile appeared on Kahula’s face.

This warm moment was, of course, ruined by Skylar.

“Oh, right. ‘Kahula’.” He adopted an ugly smile and said, “Bet he can’t even hula.” The same Warblers that smirked earlier now quietly chuckled.

Kahula **_hated_** this boy.

Without a word, he stomped his feet, and began to hula, in the masculine style. After a moment, Myron joined in; Kahula had been teaching him. Another beat, and Kitty started to dance in the feminine style, Ailani and Kahula’s mother having taught her. It looked a touch mismatched alongside their masculine style, but Kahula appreciated the show of solidarity.

There were some murmurs of amusement at first, but it quickly turned to silence. The other students backed away and gave them room, formed a circle around them.

All the while, Kahula never broke eye contact with Skylar.

After about two minutes of this, Kahula stopped his hula, and Myron and Kitty followed suit. He stood straight, defiant.

The silence was broken when Rachel practically squealed, “That’s it! That would be different, fresh, and new!” She looked at Will Schuester excitedly. “We could incorporate some of those moves into our routine, Mr. Schue.”

“That’s...actually a pretty good idea,” Will agreed.

“The setlist we picked _is_ meant to be a in-my-opinion-too-subtle-and-too-white ‘screw you’ to Sue and her racism,” considered Santana, “and adding that in would make the message more obvious, which I’m definitely down for.”

“It’d go well with our first number, I think,” was Blaine’s contribution.

Jane was the next to voice her opinion. “If we’re doing that,” she said, “there should be some hip hop in the second song, and at least a bit of funk in the last one.”

“It’s kinda racist that none of you thought of that,” chimed in Brittany.

Blaine’s look at her was nearly a glare. “Why didn’t _you_ say anything, then?”

“I didn’t think of it either,” she admitted, “so I’m racist, too, I guess. I’m sorry, Santana.”

“It’s fine, baby,” Santana said, with affection.

But Brittany shook her head. “It’s really not.”

 

\-----

 

Kahula patiently waited that evening in the classroom where he, Kitty, and Mr. Schue would be giving dance lessons to Roderick and Spencer. He would need to wait a while, since, as per usual with glee related things, he was very early.

When you live literally across the street from where something you really like was going to take place, it was next to impossible to just wait at home until it was time to go.

He had strummed his ukulele while he hummed through their setlist for a few minutes, when, to his surprise, Kitty walked through the door.

Her raised eyebrow made it clear that she had expected to see him. “It’s more than ten minutes before Remedial Dance starts, and it looks like you’ve already been here for awhile.”

Kahula rolled his eyes, and then leveled A Look at her. “What are _you_ doing here so early?” he demanded.

“Because,” she said, as she walked over and took a seat next to him in one of the few chairs in the room, “I know you always are, and the thought of you sitting alone in a classroom in an empty school creeped me out. I had to make sure you don’t do anything weird.”

Kahula let out a quiet laugh. “What does that even mean?” he inquired, “You think my default settings are weird.” He leaned back, and he assessed her. “You know what’s weird? All of you cheerleaders wearing your uniforms to school everyday, that’s weird.”

“You calling it weird is what’s weird.”

“Crazy is logical to a crazy person,” he said, and shook his head.

“And _that_ was super weird,” she asserted. There was a pause as she crossed her legs, her eyes on the large clock on the wall. “Kahula,” she asked, casually, “you know who you’re going to ask to the Winter Dance, yet?”

Kahula had taken up his ukulele again and had been just about to resume his play when she had asked that. His fingers stilled before the strings as he stared at her. “The Winter Dance?” he asked, eyebrows furrowed, bewildered. “That’s not until late December; why are you thinking about that already? That’s more than a month away.”

She shrugged and tapped her fingers of her right hand upon her left arm, gaze still on the clock. “It was announced that it was back with all the other school dances just last week, now that Sue’s out, so it’s natural for it be on my mind. And it’s that or worry about my history test on Monday.”

Now one eyebrow arched. “Delighted to hear that you’re panicking over a test I helped you study for.”

“I’m not _panicking,_ ” Kitty denied as she finally looked at him again.

“Sure,” Kahula dismissed, and then went on to answer, “I haven’t put any thought into who I’m going to ask to the dance, because I’m not going.”

“Are you that certain that the answer will be ‘no’?” Kitty asked with a smirk, as she rested her elbow on her leg, her chin on her fist.

Kahula sighed, and rolled his eyes again. “I’m that certain that I don’t want to go.” He returned his focus to his ukulele, and idly strummed the chords to the first number.

“Okay, fine, new topic,” Kitty said, expression neutral, “Kahula. I have a question.”

Kahula sighed again, a bit more dramatically. He slouched in his chair and looked at her through the corner of his eye. “What.”

“Just, how is it possible,” she asked, tone easy, “that Ailani has won more dancing competitions than you, when she’s three years younger than you?”

“Because different competitions happened at the same time, sometimes,” Kahula explained. “This one time, I missed a dance competition because I had to do a surfing competition.”

Kitty sat upright, rested her hands in her lap, and donned a smug look. “You _had_ to, did you? And Ailani hasn’t ever had that problem?”

This time, he shifted in his chair to look at Kitty properly. He frowned, and asked, “What are you getting at?”

She grinned. “What I’m getting at is that I figured it out.”

Kahula closed his eyes. “Figured _what_ out, Catty?”

“The reason why you’re never any better than second best in your family at anything, K.” She expanded her arms outward, palms out. “It’s because you’re trying to be the best in _everything_ , and nobody can do that.”

Kahula went very still, his eyes opened wide.

For a few seconds, there was only silence.

Kitty’s amusement was tempered by something that looked a bit like pity to Kahula, but not quite. “That never occurred to you, did it?” Then a beat, and the smirk was back. “You’re that slow.”

He glared at her. “Funny that I’m getting better grades than you in history, then.”

“Yeah, it’s hilarious.”

He sat up straight, ready to battle. If you accused him of enjoying these back-and-forths he and Kitty had regularly, he’d deny it, of course.

...but they were sorta fun.

Before he got to engage, however, the door to the room opened, and Mr. Schue, Roderick, and Spencer walked in.

“Ah, hello there, Kahula,” Mr. Schue cheerfully called out, tone turning to surprise when he saw Kitty. “Kitty, you’re here already.”

“Perceptive as always, Schue,” she drawled.

After a beat, Will Schuester awkwardly responded, “Right. Okay! Let’s get started, right away.” He nodded approvingly towards Kahula and said, “Thank you for bringing your instrument, Kahula, that will be helpful.”

It had not been lost on Kahula that Mr. Schue had avoided calling the instrument by name. But he decided that that was in a way better than mangling the pronunciation, so he’ll give him a pass.

He could not understand why ‘ukulele’ was so hard when they all could say ‘Tchaikovsky’ with ease.

As if on cue, Spencer then said, “That reminds me; Kahula, Alistair plays the ukulele, maybe-”

“‘Ukulele’,” Kahula corrected. “I’m sure you think he’s great.”

Kitty grinned.

Spencer frowned. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Kahula did not answer him, but instead asked Mr. Schue, “Did you want me to help go over the steps first, before I start playing?”

“Yes, Kahula,” Will said, in what resembled relief, “that would be fantastic, especially for the hula. Of course. Let’s begin.”

The man was hopeless; thank God Santana wasn’t ditching being coach like Rachel and Blaine both were.

Blaine bailing made zero sense, too. He had been so happy, from the little Kahula had seen of him (which was a lot more than you’d expect to see of a coach from what was a rival team until two weeks ago), with that guy Dave, and being a coach. He’d started acting weird after Santana and Brittany’s wedding, and he broke up with Dave, and was now going to New York for some reason. Even Blaine didn’t seem to understand why he was doing what he was doing.

And seemed like Kahula was the only one aware of how odd this was, like this was some kind of Bizarro land where nonsensical stuff happened every day.

Such as a woman who had just been fired from her position as principal after having been exposed as mentally unstable and a threat to the wellbeing of children, getting a job a few days later as a glee club coach in another school that was less than a three hour drive away from McKinley.

Kahula hated Ohio _so much_.

(On the topic of Sue being exposed as a threat to child safety, Kahula’s parents about had a fit when they learned about the canings and attack dogs. When he told them he had not said anything for fear of making them feel guilty for moving them to Ohio, they responded that he should never keep that type of secret again, because his welfare was much more important than their feelings.)

The cram study session for dancing commenced. Roderick was as bad as Kahula had expected him to be, but Spencer had somehow gotten worse since glee club dancing rehearsal; Kahula had never seen a better example of a person’s nerves getting the best of them than what he saw before him at that moment.

Kahula had had a suspicion that Spencer’s inflated ego was nothing but overcompensation to cloak a metric ton of insecurity.

Confirmed.

As they went through the routine for their second number, Kahula’s attentive gaze caught Spencer’s feet get in each other’s way. Instinctively, he acted before the ‘snap’ he heard in his mind became reality, and caught Spencer-

-in what amounted to a French dip.

There was an awkward moment in which they stared at each other, until Spencer cracked a grin and broke the silence with, “I’m flattered, Kahula, but I’m already taken.”

Kahula’s expression went flat, and, unceremoniously, he dropped Spencer to the floor. After Spencer’s short groan, he stated, deadpan, to an imaginary figure in front of him, “‘Thank you, Kahula, I could have badly sprained my ankle.’ ‘No problem, Spencer.’” He stepped back, and looked down upon the figure sprawled on the floor. “Get up.”

He thought that he heard a suppressed giggle to his right, from Kitty.

Something about that moment must have snapped Spencer out of that self-conscious headspace and had gotten him back to his normal non-ability to dance.

At the end of an hour-and-a-half of instruction, ‘Stumbles One And Two’, as Kitty had dubbed them, were still terrible, but had noticeably, if only slightly, improved. Kahula was confident that they would be ready by Sectionals.

Especially since the two cram sessions over the weekend would be supervised by Santana, rather than Mr. Schuester.

 

\-----

 

At glee club the following Wednesday, rehearsal did not begin immediately. The students sat, in awkward silence; the coaches stood, in awkward silence.

Yesterday, Sue had poisoned the school water supply and had bombed the school parking lot. She had been arrested last night, and was in police custody, held without bail because she was considered to be a flight risk. Rumor had it that the local law enforcement had been hoping to nab her for years, but, until November seventeenth, she had always had an alibi, there had always been some loophole.

Yesterday, her acts of terrorism had put one Brittany Susan Pierce-Lopez, a beloved federal employee and YouTube celebrity, in the hospital. It had been impressed upon Kahula that that detail had been important, that Sue Sylvester would have certainly gotten away with what she had done, otherwise.

He **_hated_ ** Ohio.

“I guess we can shift out of panic mode, huh?” Sam finally said, “I mean, Vocal Adrenaline are kinda orphans now, that’s gotta throw them off their game, right? And that other team is that bird school, and, while they go to Nationals for every bird-related competition, they pretty much suck at everything else.”

“Hell no,” rejected Santana, “McKinley hadn’t won Nationals for two decades until we did in 2012, this could be the year the birdy weirdos stop sucking. And Vocal Adrenaline is entirely composed of psychopaths you should never turn your back on.” There was then a loud ‘beep’, which turned out to be Santana’s phone; she pulled it out immediately to see whatever message it was. “It’s my informant,” she announced, “we now know who the new coach for Vocal Adrenaline is-”

“Informant?” Mr. Schue asked sharply. “Santana, we are _not_ going to be cheating-”

“Relax,” she cut him off, “it was only to find out who the coach is, not to learn their set list, or anything. They know who all of us are; if we _don’t_ know who their coach is, that puts them at an unfair advantage, right? I’m only trying to level the playing field. Can I tell you who it is, now?” She concluded with a raised eyebrow. When Mr. Schue had visibly acquiesced, and gestured for her to continue, she returned her gaze to her phone and read, “The new coach is Baldric Blackhart.”

Most did not react, that included Will Schuester, but there were several gasps heard in the room.

“Oh, _no_ ,” whispered Rachel.

After a few seconds of quiet, Santana irritably glanced about the room, and then demanded, “Mind cluing the rest of us in, choir nerds?”

“Baldric Blackhart,” answered Rachel solemnly, “was the coach for Vocal Adrenaline from 1994 to 2002, winning Nationals every year until 2002. In the year of 2002, he and half of the choir contracted stomach flu shortly before Nationals. That year, they placed third.”

“They competed while sick with the _flu?_ ” Roderick asked, incredulously. His stunned expression matched that of most of the McKinley students. Kitty, Jane, the McCarthy twins, the Warblers, and all of the glee club alums-turned-coaches, wore no surprise on their faces at all.

Skylar intoned, face absolutely serious, “The only reason Carmel High will accept for absence is death.”

“I heard that they don’t even accept that as an excuse,” quipped Kitty.

“Carmel High has a zero tolerance policy for failure,” Rachel stated, “so, despite seven straight years of victories at Nationals, they fired him.”

“ _I_ heard,” Mason said, conspiratorially, “that he cursed that position in revenge, and that’s why no one remains coach for Vocal Adrenaline for more than a year.”

Faced screwed up in disbelief, a Warbler questioned, “If he cursed Vocal Adrenaline, why did they win for eight years after that?”

“Curses are tricky,” Santana responded with seeming knowledge while she inspected her fingernails, “unintended consequences, and all that.” She looked up at Rachel. “Brittany is doing a lot better, but I need to leave for home the moment this meeting is done, okay?”

Rachel blinked at her. “Of course,” she replied.

There was a time of uncomfortable quiet before Will began the glee club meeting with vocal warm-ups.

 

\-----

 

Kahula’s pre-performance jitters were calmed somewhat as he watched the Falconers perform. It wasn’t that they were in any way bad; their rendition of We Were Born To Fly was great, Broken Wings and Fly Like An Eagle were good. They were pretty impressive, actually, if a bit strange. It was just...he couldn’t put his finger on it, but they just felt like they were destined for third place. Like it was already written down somewhere.

Then Vocal Adrenaline got on stage.

He was no longer calmed.

It seemed that losing two coaches in the time period of less than a month didn’t slow them down in the slightest.

Crap.

Vocal Adrenaline finished their set with an amazing performance of Call Me by Blondie, with yet another onstage costume change, skirts removed to reveal pink hot pants, tracksuit jackets removed and tracksuit pants torn off to expose black pants that looked painted on, and more props, this time rolling beds with pink sheets, was that _silk_?

_TU Kai._

 

The second break between teams, to get mentally prepared.

When the large group of them gathered in the choir room and formed the apparently traditional circle for the pep talk, it wasn’t Rachel’s words that soothed Kahula. It was as he looked around at all of his teammates.

He wasn’t really friends with anyone there, and he definitely hated Skylar, but...they were a great team. Everyone there loved performing, loved music as much as he did. Everyone there needed this club like he did.

They were a team united, and they would win this.

When he scanned the room, his eyes finally landed on Kitty. He reflected on that earlier thought, of how he didn’t truly have anyone he’d call a friend in that room. He suddenly questioned himself if that were true. He, in that moment, realized that he never _had_ to help her study for history tests, she certainly never _needed_ to help him with his math homework, they _definitely_ didn’t have to converse everyday like they did, they knew each other’s _favorite color_ (pink), and **_kanapapiki_ ** _they were friends._

And she had just noticed his stare.

He quickly looked away, and blushed.

Rachel finished the speech he had not bothered to listen to, and he threw his hand in with the others, his team.

They all called out, together, **_“Aaaaaamazing!”_ **

 

The curtain opened, and Kahula began to sing the first verse and refrain of American Music by the Violent Femmes, as Kitty danced a female hula beside him. The translation of the lyrics of the song into a hula could not be a perfect one, but they had gotten close.

 

_~Do you like American music?_

_I like American music_

_Don’t you like American music?_

_Baby~_

 

The decision had been to skip over the part mentioning drugs, which made sense beyond avoiding controversy- the first verse was too long with it.

Then Kitty ceased her hula, and Kahula began his male one as she sang the second verse.

 

_~I need a date to the prom_

_Would you like to come along?~_

 

...was she looking at him?

 

_~Want no one else, to go to the prom with me_

_Baby~_

 

That...that wasn’t the lyrics.

She sang the rest of the verse to the audience, as she was meant to, but with more spirit than in previous rehearsals.

 

_~They don’t like American music!_

_They never heard American music!_

_They don’t know the music that’s in my so-o-o-oul_

_Baby!~_

 

Then she sang the refrain, with the rest of the choir to sing

 

_~You like American music~_

 

at the appropriate points.

The instrumental was sung like an a cappella by the whole choir, the three girls at the front with three of the boys, the rest behind.

The three boys being the three that proved best at the hula, of course. It was Kahula (naturally), Alistair, and…

Roderick.

Turned out, he had a real knack for the hula. He had only managed to get to ‘competent’ in the other forms of dance, but hula seemed to be Roderick’s groove. That pleased Kahula on many levels.

One of them being that it pissed off Skylar that a guy he had openly derided the dance skills of was better than him at a style of dance by a noteworthy degree. In fact, Skylar was pretty bad at all of the new choreography.

So he was in the back row.

Yeah, that tasted really nice.

Then he and Kitty together sang,

 

_~Do you like American music?~_

 

and the whole choir replied,

 

_~We like American music!~_

 

and Kahula sang,

 

_~I like American music~_

 

and then whole choir,

 

_~Baby…~_

 

And then the second half was similar, only that Kitty had the third, solo line-

 

_~Do you like American music?~_

_~We like all kinds of music!~_

_~But I like American music best!~_

_~Baby!~_

 

The remainder of the song was sung by the whole choir, with the ‘I’ exchanged for a ‘we’, ‘it reminds me of me’ repeated four times, ‘you like American music’ sung between the repeats.

And then it was the next song, Don’t Stop The Music by Rihanna, the verse done as paired solos, between Jane and Mason, Jane first, Mason second, the bridge sung together, and the chorus sung by the whole choir. Just as Roderick had proven to be unexpectedly adept at the hula, Myron was the surprise at hip-hop. Not as big of a surprise, since he was already a talented dancer, but, still, not a genre of dance you’d look to come from him.

(It was a good thing he had turned out to be a natural at hip-hop- he nearly threw a fit over not being one of the three main male hula dancers, and had even tried to argue that he ought to be one of the three that danced the female hula if he couldn’t be with the boys. He didn’t settle down until Santana said, “I was going to suggest that you get a hip-hop dance solo during Don’t Stop The Music, but maybe you shouldn’t get anything at all.”

“...a dance solo?” Myron asked, excited, “All eyes on me, at center stage? That’s _way_ better than being part of a group of six! I can forgive your sizism not allowing me to have a prominent hula position, since you are acknowledging that I am the best hip-hop dancer. I accept your offer.”

“...great,” said Will Schuester, “moving on, let’s go over the choreography for taking off the blazers for the prominent dance performances, and then getting them back on quickly after...Jane! Any ideas of how to achieve this so that it goes smoothly?”

Sometimes Mr. Schue actually knew what he was doing. Whom he had to quickly distract, and how.)

Myron’s dance solo was for the chorus, his jumps, flips, and spins even more impressive than they had been in rehearsals.

 

_~Please don’t stop,_

_Please don’t stop the music!~_

 

they all sang, before they went right into an another a cappella riff, this time of the starting chords for Play That Funky Music, by Wild Cherry, soon followed by Roderick’s killer vocals.

 

_~Well I was a boogie singer!_

_Playing in a rock n’ roll band!_

_I never had no problems_

_Burnin’ down the one night stand~_

 

As Roderick moved to the funk, Kahula reflected on how Roderick seemed to have picked up the new choreography easier than what had been planned originally. Less so with the hip hop, admittedly, that he seemed to have found almost as difficult as the 90’s boyband moves, but with hula and funk, his body appeared to figure it out a lot quicker.

Roderick’s body was capable of dancing; it just violently rejected white people dancing as aggressively it would an organ of the wrong blood type.

Yeah, that tasted _really_ nice.

 

_~Somebody turned around and shouted-~_

 

Time for Kahula and Jane-

 

_~Play that funky music white boy!_

_Play that funky music right!_

_Play that funky music white boy!_

_Lay down the boogie_

_And play that funky music ‘til you die!~_

 

After that, they skipped the second and third verses, and launched into the call and response ending, between Roderick and either the whole choir or just Kahula and Jane. Jane and Kahula had, of course, had the

 

_~Play that funky music white boy!~_

 

since it felt a little awkward to have the rest sing that bit.

But it ended all together with-

 

_~Lay down the boogie_

_And_

_Play_

_That_

_Fun-ky_

_Mu-sic_

_‘Til_

_You_

_Die.~_

 

When the final note ended, they were greeted by a standing ovation.

The curtains drew in once again, hid them from view of the audience

That had been…

Incredible.

Kahula had never felt like this before.

The high may have remained with him for some time, if his brain had forgotten what happened during the first number.

While the judges unknowingly deliberated the fate of New Directions, he managed to get Kitty alone, but it took several minutes to do so.

“Okay, what was that?” Kahula questioned, tone as if he suspected some sort of bizarre prank. Just the sort of thing to spoil his earlier realization that they had somehow become friends. To top it off, his brain just unhelpfully mentioned that Kitty looked pretty with her hair down. He crossly told his brain to shut up.

“What was what?” she replied innocently, eyebrows gently arched.

Kahula huffed out an exasperated breath. “You changed the lyrics.”

She smiled slightly. It wasn’t her customary smirk. “You noticed that, did you?”

He rolled his eyes. “Yeah, I did, Catty.”

She shrugged before she said, “It’s good you noticed. If you hadn’t, I would have known you were too dumb to bother with.”

 _‘Give me strength, ancestors,’_ thought Kahula. “To bother with what?”

Again, she didn’t answer. “As a rule, I don’t tend to like people.”

“Shocker,” Kahula responded, flatly.

“And it’s rare for someone to return my sass,” she continued, “and you’re the only one that does it in a way that doesn’t feel like you’re trying to fight me; you’re just returning the shot.” She smiled again. “It’s like tennis.”

Kahula shook his head. “Why are you telling me this, what are you getting at?”

She crossed her arms. “I’m a traditional sort of girl, so you should really be asking me, but, being that you’re way too lame to do so, I’m asking you to be my date to the Winter Dance.”

His brain ground to a halt. He just stared at her for a moment. “What?”

It was then that Santana appeared, annoyed. “What are you two doing over here? You need to get on stage; the judges have made their decision, and it’s time to find out if we still have a glee club after today. Move your asses, you can flirt later.”

Kahula now stared at _her._ “What?”

“Move it!” she all but shouted as she gave him a shove. They obediently allowed themselves to be herded onstage.

Kitty loves waffles, the Falconers won third place and seemed to be genuinely delighted that they had, and Kahula was almost certain he saw one of the members of Vocal Adrenaline mouth the words, “What the fuck?!” when the New Directions were declared the winners.

The glee club would continue to survive.

Kahula immediately attempted to talk to Kitty, but he instead found himself accosted by Alistair.

“I hear you don’t believe that I can play the ukulele?” he asked.

Kahula sighed. He didn’t have time for this. “You really ought to already know it’s pronounced ‘ukulele’,” he quickly said, “and I’m sure you’re competent.” With that, he tried to duck out of this conversation, but Alistair stepped in front of him.

“‘Competent’?” Alistair questioned with a raised eyebrow. He grinned. “Sounds like we need to have a ukulele duel.”

Kahula credited him for having pronounced it correctly, but he desperately wanted this discussion to be over. “We really don’t,” he rejected, “I don’t get off on humiliating people, Alistair; especially not in public.” He tried to dive away again, and Alistair blocked him again.

“So you’re all talk?” he asked as he crossed his arms.

“Augh,” Kahula groaned, “fine; at glee club on Monday, okay? Okay. Bye.” Alistair let him go this time, to seek out Kitty-

-whom had patiently waited for him by the backstage exit, for that entire confrontation.

When he had gotten next to her, he hissed, “Did you feel no need to get me out of that disaster scheduling?”

“No need whatsoever,” she replied, “it was funny.” There was a beat of silence as Alistair passed them. After the door had shut behind him, she added, “And it won’t be a disaster for _you_. It would have been hilarious either way, but I’ll find it a lot funnier watching him lose.”

Kahula deadpanned, “I’m glad you have such faith in me.”

“Don’t need to have faith when you have facts,” was the response.

He realized she was utterly serious, and had to halt for a moment. He felt so stupid, right then. He thought back to many, many moments over the last few weeks where Kitty had shown clear amusement with the things he had said to her and others, and all this time he had thought she was laughing _at_ him. But that hadn’t been the case since their ‘cheer Rachel up’ duet, he now realized. In fact, it may have never been the case.

“You actually like me,” is what he said out loud.

“Duh,” she snarked, “and you like me.”

He squinted at her. “How do you know that?”

She suddenly looked vulnerable. “Well, you do, don’t you?”

He stared at her for a moment, before he answered, “I do. I have no idea _why,_ but I do.”

She laughed, then. “Glad you finally caught up, Hawaiian.”

He glared at her, but there was very little heat behind it. “Absolutely no idea.”

She laughed harder at that.

He tried to hold it back, but smile snuck up on him, and he looked away as his face flushed.

Well. Nothing for it.

“Yes.”

Her laughter ceased, and she looked up at him in confusion. “Yes, what?”

He rolled his eyes. “Now who’s behind?” He looked at her. “Yes, I will go to the dance with you.”

She smiled a warm, genuine smile. “Really?”

He smiled back. “Really.” After a pause, he asked, “What do you say to me making leis for both of us to wear for it?”

She briefly pursed her lips in thought, and then she answered, “Only if they’re pink.”

He let out a huff. “Of course they’ll be pink; did you really think I’d make them in any other color?”

She laughed again, and he smiled again.

He didn’t hate everything about Ohio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I quote one line from Kitty directly from the episode We Built This Glee Club. (With one small difference.)
> 
> ‘TU Kai’ means ‘shit’ in Hawaiian, ‘kanapapiki’ is ‘son of a bitch’.
> 
>  
> 
> [Male hula dancing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_Xr1Wd17w-g)  
> [Female hula dancing.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=leLfa2FTin8)  
> [Hip hop.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hVoNwiFIPRU)  
> [Funk.](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2R_lhP3J1eQ)
> 
>  
> 
> All the teams should get three songs, don’t you think?
> 
> The songs The Falconers sing-
> 
> [We Were Born To Fly](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=2hKr9Kae2BM) by the Scorpions  
> [Fly Like An Eagle](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=c1f7eZ8cHpM) by the Steve Miller Band
> 
> Third Vocal Adrenaline song-
> 
> [Call Me](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=y6QBaZHltJw) by Blondie
> 
> And here is the New Directions’ setlist at Sectionals!  
> [American Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=3TRF2q-zrj0) by Violent Femmes  
> [Don’t Stop The Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=D9_AODMeXoo) by Rihanna, acoustic cover version by Maria Zouroudis & Boyce Avenue  
> [Play That Funky Music](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=MDZsNksbw2Q) by Wild Cherry, but their rendition is as [Adam Lambert](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=q5H7BrHwUdk) does for American Idol, without Roderick having that final solo line.


End file.
